Strength
by DigiExpert
Summary: The second war continues to drag on. The latest reports Rodoreamon had received did not bring the best of news, and she knew she'd have to make a trip to inform Paraietta of this disturbing turn of events.


**I'm not sure what possessed me to attempt this, but I discovered how hard it is to write a post-series fic with very little to go on. However, I was able to finish it, and enjoyed the finished project, so it gets posted. After all, the world needs more Simoun fanfic :)**

She sighed, rubbing her temples. The reports she held in her hands weren't baring the best of news. She rested her elbows on her desk, chin on top. The question was, what should she do next? Each day brought more disaster, more bad news. Every day brought more orphans, and she knew that the current building could only hold so many safely. She had not been to see Paraietta in awhile, but she knew the drill, knew that each new battle or attack, brought another round of loss of life, which only meant more children who had lost their parents.

No, she would not continue to dwell. To dwell only brought pain, pain that she could not handle on top of her duties. If she let herself think of the outcomes, it would only muddle with her work. She looked back down at the reports she'd received that afternoon. News had spread that the attacks were drawing closer to the orphanage. She had already relocated the building once. The original was most likely a base for the enemy. That had been less than a year ago. Once more, she was looking at doing the same thing. The problem was that there was no building for them to escape to. She could not locate another, could not negotiate with the delegates to protect the children. They simply would hand over no more money, no more buildings.

She rose from her seat, moving to the window. She looked over the landscape, noticing that the sun was finally setting. It had been a long day; she'd been in her office since shortly after the sunrise that morning. She'd wanted to accomplish the goal of securing more money, but her efforts had failed. She knew she would have to attempt to see Paraietta. She could not leave her friend in the dark. She had a feeling that Paraietta would respond as she had before, but she still had to visit. She needed to let her know…and she needed to know that she was all right.

Early the next morning, she rose and dressed, putting on a freshly pressed suit and pinning her hair into the usual style. After a quick breakfast, she placed a few documents, including the reports from the previous day, into a tanned satchel. She took a deep breath, praying that she would be able to make it to the orphanage without too much delay. She was escorted from the house.

By mid-day she noticed the orphanage in sight. It had taken a ride on the train and then a long trek up the mountainside. She could hear the rumblings of battle in the distance, and as she climbed the steep road, she could see rising smoke, but she did not know if it was enemy fire or friendly fire. Did it matter? Some of her friends were fighting either side; those on the other side would never be considered enemies. Her escort kept an eye on the scene in the distance, never saying a word.

As she crossed the dirt yard, she passed the children at play, carefully being watched by the various nurse maids. The children eyed her with delight, happy to see a new face among them. She smiled and waved to them before she noticed the figure on the porch. She broke away from her escort, moving to stand in front of her.

"Rodoreamon… it's been a long time," remarked Paraietta, a smile playing on her face.

"Yes…I'm very sorry about that. Business has kept me away—"

Paraietta held up a hand to interrupt her. "You don't need to apologize. Please, come inside." She turned and led the way into the building. Rodoreamon followed her down the small hallway until they came to a room at the very end of the hall. Paraietta opened the door, and the two entered the small box office. A table served as a desk, stacked high with papers. A few filing cabinets stored the data and relevant information on the orphanage. Very little decorated the walls, making the room seem more dingy than it was. Paraietta took a seat behind the desk and gestured to the other empty chair. "Sit, please."

Rodoreamon took a seat, scooting the chair closer to the desk. She pulled the satchel onto her lap, opening it to retrieve the papers inside. "I have some more news. I'm sure you can hear the sounds of the battle in the distance."

"Yes. The children aren't bothered by it yet. They try to mimic the sounds they hear. It's cute when they compete to see who does it best."

Passing over the report, Rodoreamon replied, "Reports indicate that the battle will end up in your area. I am not sure what we can do. I've tried to secure a new building and more funding, but the delegates will not agree to it." She frowned, hating to have to relay those words.

The rustling of papers was the only thing that was heard for the next few moments. Paraietta bent over the report, dark hair framing her face. One hand rested on her chin, considering the things she was reading. "It doesn't look good, does it?"

"No. This war has done more damage than the last one. Even though the Simouns still fly, this one has created more casualties."

"Yes, more and more children arrive each week. We are nearly full. Even if the war does not reach here, we may end up having to turn away children." Paraietta's voice held a note of sadness in it. It was not an outcome she wished to pursue.

Rodoreamon reached a hand across the table, placing it on top of Paraietta's. "There must be a way to avoid the battle."

Sighing, Paraietta nodded slowly. "We have found some caves higher in the mountains that would do for shelter, but not for very long. Children aren't prone to being quiet, so we'd still give away our location. It comes down to dying there, or dying here. I can only hope the enemy would not kill them, but I will sacrifice myself for them."

"Protecting again?"

Paraietta did not miss the hint of laughter in Rodoreamon's voice. It was not often the quiet woman joked. "The children need any protection they can get. I cannot shield them from the war, and perhaps not the enemy, but I still can do all I can to keep them safe."

"Yes, we can only do so much." She sighed. "I really am sorry I cannot do anymore."

"You've done plenty. I'm still grateful to you for what you have accomplished. Don't put yourself down. Come, why don't you spend some time with the children? They'd love to play with you. I don't think there's much more to discuss here."

"You're right," agreed Rodoreamon, nodding. She stood, taking the reports that Paraietta handed back to her and placing them in her satchel.

Paraietta moved to open the door, holding it for Rodoreamon. As she stepped into the hallway, a small child came barreling down the hallway, crying loudly. All that could be seen of the small blur was a mop of black hair. The child careened into Paraietta's skirt, latching on firmly. Paraietta had already prepared herself for such an attack, and so was not thrown off balance. "Reicha, what's wrong," she asked gently, kneeling down to the child's level.

"C-C-Corie took…took m-my d-dollll!" wailed the girl.

Rodoreamon watched the scene, uncertain of what to do. She noticed one of the nursemaids hurrying down the hall, most likely to retrieve the child.

"Reicha! You know not to leave the yard when Paraietta has a guest, especially an important one," scolded the nursemaid.

"I'll take care of her," answered Paraietta. "We were just finishing up."

"Yes, ma'am," replied the nursemaid, turning to head back outside.

Paraietta picked Reicha up and began to walk down the hallway, Rodoreamon at her side. "Reicha's been with us since she was a baby. Some travelers dropped her off three years ago, claiming her parents to be killed by the soldiers." As she spoke to Rodoreamon, she ran her fingers lightly over Reicha's back, bouncing her gently. "It was a very common reason during that time."

"Because of that large scale attack, right?"

"Yes. We're fortunate that not too many attacks of that size have occurred."

The two entered the front yard, surrounded by the noise of playtime. Rodoreamon smiled when she saw her escort was caught up in building blocks with two girls in overalls. Paraietta placed Reicha on the ground as another girl ran over to her, carrying a doll.

"Here Reicha. Sorry," she whispered softly.

Reicha squeezed the small doll, hugging it tightly. "It's s'ok. Wanna go play?" The other girl nodded, and before Paraietta could say a word, they both ran off.

"That was solved quickly," said Rodoreamon.

"Most problems are. A kind word or a kiss, and the pain goes away."

"Wouldn't it be nice if war were the same?"

By the time Rodoreamon returned home that even, darkness had just fallen on the land. She'd stayed longer at the orphanage than planned. The children had invited her to join a game of catch. The memory of the game and the squeals of laughter would stay with her for a long time. A world of war was no place for those smiling faces. The children would be the future. Perhaps, if her own generation could not end the cycle, then they would be the next to do so.

She let down her hair, unpinning and unfastening the braid. The chestnut locks cascaded down her backside, and her head felt a bit lighter. The burden she had felt that morning was also lighter on her chest. As she had promised Paraietta, she would continue to search for an answer to the arising problem. In her heart, she knew that to give up on the children would be to give in to the war. She did not wish to give in to the delegates. She could appear to be a quiet and soft spoken person, but when she set out to achieve something, she was determined and stubborn. Tomorrow was another day, another round with the delegates. Regardless, she would continue to fight for what she believed was right.


End file.
